In the Long Run

I received a letter from my childhood chum, Terry, recently. She had enclosed a folded, yellowed paper titled, “Letter to the Future.” The page contained several questions, each followed by lines for the respondent’s answers.

I grinned as I recognized the scrawled answers punctuated with plentiful exclamation marks as my own, completed when I was about 13 or so. I vaguely recalled that Terry and I had been in a church youth group class, and had completed this page during a lesson that was probably designed to help us remember the past, but set goals and plan for the future. Somehow she had kept this page all these years, and now had sent it to me.

I read that I had eaten Cheerios for breakfast that morning, and that my favorite subject in school was band, and my worst subject was science. My favorite song was “Leaving On a Jet Plane” by Peter, Paul, and Mary, and I disliked household chores. I wanted to buy a palomino (I don’t remember being “horsey” at that age), my hobby was spying on people (some day I’ll have to write about our G.O.O.S.E. club—the Girls’Organization Of Secret Espionage), and I was infatuated with a boy named Milton.

I was a little embarrassed to read how silly or trite some of my answers had been. Surely I had been more mature than that?! It was also discomfiting that I had left unanswered some of the questions that required deeper thought, or self-analysis. (Perhaps I was a little harsh in judging my Seminary students in my previous blog, Desired Things.)

I smiled and shook my head at that young and giggly, carefree and self-absorbed, girl. In some ways, she has changed a lot, but not so much in others. I still groan about household chores, I still find science difficult to understand, and I still live life with exclamation marks!

Posted by Cyppy at 10:44 PM  2 comments

2. Reading books or magazines

3. Wrestling with a child seated in the back

4. Talking on a cell phone

5. Looking at a map

6. Changing clothes

7. Flossing teeth

I shamefacedly admit I’ve done all these things while driving my car. I know that these behaviors are risky and unwise. Yet at the time, they seemed so necessary or excusable given the circumstances.

I just returned home from a trip that required a nine-hour drive each way. I’m happy to report that during my journey I was guilty of only one of the previously mentioned peccadilloes—talking on my cell phone—and surely it was a harmless offense, since the calls were very, very short. But I have a new behavior to add to the list of driving no-noes: manually rewinding a tangled cassette tape.

I’m quite patient and capable in enduring long runs, but long drives make me crazy. And on this long drive, I was all alone. I thought I’d pass the time by listening to books on tape, so I had borrowed several titles from the library. One of the unabridged books contained about 12 tapes, and I chose it because I thought it sounded interesting, and I thought it would last me through the entire trip.

However, I had only listened to one tape, about an hour’s worth, before I ran into trouble. I had just slipped the second tape into the recorder and pressed play. I heard a clicking sound, but the tape didn’t advance. I ejected it, shook it, and reinserted it. Click, click, click, and the recorder shut off. I tried to rewind, and then fast forward, but no luck. I became frustrated.

I wanted to continue listening to that book. How would I ever know what happened to the poor orphan boy who had already been placed in three foster homes with unfortunate results? I would make that tape work. I held down the play button forcefully, and heard the familiar clicking as well as a new, crackling noise. It did not sound good.

I tried to eject the cassette, and discovered that not only was the tape a loopy tangle in the recorder mechanism, but it was also a snarled jumble in the cassette casing itself. Undaunted, I delicately tugged and twisted the tape until I extricated it, unbroken, from the tape recorder. Now I had several yards of mangled magnetic tape on my lap.

Mind you, I was still flying at 70 mph down a two-lane undivided state highway, dubbed the Highway of Death because of the frequency of accidents on that road. Common sense dictated that I abandon that book and start listening to a totally different book on tape. I am uncommonly stubborn. I held the cassette in my left hand which also steadied the steering wheel, and used a pen with my right hand to begin rewinding the tape.

It was a slow, tedious process, but I managed to wind all the tape back into the cassette. But when I tried to play it, I still heard no audio, just clicking. I examined the tape again. It looked like some of the tape might not be lying entirely flat in the cassette. I pulled out a few yards of tape again, determined to wind it back in flat.

I paused for a moment, and noted a sign off the road to my right that marked the exit to a historical site. I was shocked. If I were now at Martin’s Cove, then I had passed Independence Rock, a very large, prominent landmark just off the highway and visible from some distance away, an improved area with ample parking and restrooms. I had not noticed Independence Rock at all, and I realized I was paying not nearly enough attention to the road. I promptly stuffed the damaged tape into a bag, vowed to fix it later, and chose a new book on tape. Persistence is important, but in the long drive, safety should be paramount.

Posted by Cyppy at 1:59 PM  3 comments

Since Monday, I’ve run a marathon. Let me clarify that. Since Monday, I’ve run, in four different workouts, the same distance as a marathon. On Saturday I’ll run 18 more miles in a single long run. This week marks the second highest mileage week of my entire training program, and I’m supposed to be on a vacation! I feel tired, and a little skeptical. Will I be able to run the whole 26.2 miles on October 7^th in Leavenworth, WA? Will I be able to finish in 3 hours and 50 minutes, my goal time? Why am I doing this to myself, anyway?

But as I doubt the wisdom of doing, or my ability to complete, a marathon, I am teased by a human interest story on The Today Show. Apparently Natalie Morales, one of the part-time anchor/personalities, will train for and run the New York marathon this fall. Morales has run four previous marathons, but none “since I had a child,” she said. She added that she will be blogging her experience on the show’s website, along with running tips.

Suddenly the old competitive fire returned. “If SHE can do it, so can I! Yeah, come on!! You go girl! And I’ll do it better!” I gave myself a quick pep talk. I also thought of my good friend who had considered doing this marathon with me, who is currently in the hospital recuperating from a serious accident. She is working hard on her rehab. She isn’t giving up. When I am exhausted and stiff after my long run on Saturday, I’ll think of her. I’ll be grateful for the reason for my aches and pains, and fatigue. I can run.

Posted by Cyppy at 8:39 PM  2 comments

Since finding a week like that is as likely an event as my finding an elixir of youth, I’m probably stuck with the glitches in my new design. For instance, why does the most recent post’s date appear in purple (it’s supposed to be black), and as a link? Why can’t I successfully add the cool graphic my sister gave me to the title bar? Why does the “In the Long Run” title appear in the color ‘sand” as a link when a previous post is loaded as a separate page? And why can’t I even figure out how to adjust the spacing between datelines and titles and posts?? I wish I were a computer geek!

I’ve decided I’m more of a design critic than a design creator. Web design is harder than it looks! Even a simple task, like choosing new colors, was difficult for me. I finally pulled out a running top that I like, and used its colors as the basis for my blog’s color scheme. Although I haven’t solved my other problems yet, it provides me with satisfying symmetry to emblazon my blog with the colors of the top I wore in my first long run.

Posted by Cyppy at 7:26 PM  3 comments

A few years ago, for the first, and maybe only, time, I ran a few miles with one of my brothers. At that time, I faced a possible move away from my current hometown, and I lamented to my brother about the disruption this would cause in my life. Although I expected him to reply sympathetically, I was not really surprised when he answered, “The change would be good for your family. It would challenge you and make you grow.”

I realize that change can be often straightforwardly positive and helpful. And I see how even seemingly disruptive change, such as I considered the potential move, can have shrouded advantages or eventual benefits. But still, most changes are uncomfortable, at least for a time. That is why the more things change, the more I wish some things would stay the same.

Have you ever wished you could freeze a singular moment, or even a longer period in your life, and suspend time? I know change is inevitable, but that does not deter me from wistfully trying to hang onto certain precious, but fleeting, chapters of my life. And later, when I reflect on those matchless moments, the memories become almost larger and more significant than the actual time, which only compounds the nostalgia and desire to return.

Reluctantly I acknowledge that those moments, if frozen, would never retain their exuberant life and would eventually stagnate and disappoint. Instinctively, as in the conversation with my brother, I know that change should be expected, is often necessary, and can be a prologue to new, precious but fleeting, life chapters. I know that change can make us stretch, reach, and grow stronger.

So, with a small sigh, I tuck my idyllic memories into my brain’s back pocket, and contemplate the changes that face me, my family, and my friends. Some of the changes are small, some are significant, some are welcome, and some are heart-wrenchingly difficult. All of them will provide some sort of challenge, but in the long run, there is hope for increased strength and positive growth.

Posted by Cyppy at 9:11 PM  1 comments

I recently celebrated a birthday that is one year shy of a “landmark” birthday—one that puts a person into that wincing category of being eligible for AARP benefits. I’m sure that as a teenager, I would have described the current “me” as approaching middle-age, showing signs of senility, and a definite customer for a cemetery plot.

But emotionally and physically, I don’t feel like I’m over the hill yet. In the last few years I have increased my physical activity almost exponentially. Because of the fitness classes I teach, and my own personal goals, some days I exercise for 2-3 hours. The benefits are that I’m stronger, and have more stamina and endurance now than in my more youthful past. Until a few days ago, I smugly thought I might be robbing Father Time of his youth-slashing scythe.

The reality check incident occurred after a match of my beloved pickleball. I partnered with my friend Bill, against Everett and Leonard, two experienced players who are practicing for doubles play in an upcoming tournament. Bill and I darted from side to side on the court, dinked winning floaters over the net, and even dove for balls that were spinning away. We were spry, we were nimble, we were adroit—we were downright youthful! We won a close game, and we were quite proud of our accomplishment. We graciously shook hands across the net with the other two players, and agreed good-naturedly when Leonard said he wanted to take our picture.

I teased Leonard, “I suppose this photo is for your collection of 'worthy pickleball opponents'!” He asked me to hold my paddle up a little higher, and replied, as he snapped the picture, “No, it’s to advertise the Senior Olympics.”

The scythe of time swung precariously close to the white hairs on my head. He thinks I am a Senior?! At what age is one eligible for the Senior Olympics? Maybe I AM a Senior! The confident smile I had assumed for the picture froze on my face, as the cruel realization hit home. Somehow I was not only “approaching middle age”, I was already being described as a Senior!

Since that occasion, I am resolved to come to terms with my age. After all, there will be no magical elixirs from a fountain of youth, and hours of exercise will probably only age me faster! I think I am making progress on accepting my stage in life, because today when the restaurant host asked if anyone in our party were eligible for the Senior Citizen discount, I barely even grimaced. So bring it on, AARP. Maybe you have some offers that I’ll actually be glad to accept in the long run.

Posted by Cyppy at 9:47 PM  3 comments